


Damian's guide to a terrible Valentine

by Darkpixel



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian tries to do valentine stuff, Fluff, Humor, Lingerie, M/M, Maya is so done, Smut, This is ridiculous, Valentine's Day, getting caught, in true Damian fashion, jon is not ready for this, never get your dating advice form a teen magazine, soft/slow/emotional sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkpixel/pseuds/Darkpixel
Summary: Damian Wayne didn't do Valentine.He didn't.In fact, he despised these capitalistic, inane holidays westerners seem to like so much.His boyfriend on the other hand...No. Jon will have to deal with it.No Valentine fluff for Robins.So...why does he keep thinking about it?Why is he walking toward the sparkling, valentine edition of a teen magazine?WHY IS HE ACTUALLY READING IT?NO.This is going to end terribly.He can already tell...
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 73





	Damian's guide to a terrible Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Weeeell, this got out of hand. Both in content and in length. I had too much fun writing it. I hope you have fun reading it ;)  
> Happy valentine <3  
> This is my gift for Leninille on tumblr <3 I was very happy to get your prompt <333 I hope you like it :)

Damian’s guide to a terrible Valentine

Damian stared once again at the commercial. 

The commercial stared right back.

He swore the thing was taunting him, and the entire world was in on it.

All these red hearts hanging all around made him want to find who had invented this godforsaken festivity and rip their hearts out, tying them on a string and hanging _those_ to decorate his living room. 

That would cheer him up. 

He sighed in weariness and finally got to board the subway, managing to escape from the valentine chocolate commercial he had been staring at for the past ten minutes…

...only to find himself trapped in the middle of a group of very loud teenage girls all animatedly talking about -CAUSE OF COURSE THEY WERE- _Valentine’s day._

Damian would have banged his head against the glass he was squished against if he wasn’t concerned about what brand of Gotham germs was nestled on it. 

_“So what are you gonna do?”_

_“Omg, I have no idea”_

_“I already have -everything- planned out! A movie, dinner, a Victoria’s secret red lace teddy if you know what I mean”_

And down they all went into a fit of giggles. 

Disgusting. 

Disturbing. 

A disgrace. 

If it was for him, he would just forget about the whole ordeal and carry on as if it was nothing. 

His _boyfriend_ on the other hand… 

He sighed again, leaving the train at his station, grateful to leave the giggling gaggle of girls behind him as well. 

His boyfriend was going to make a big deal about it. 

Jon loved these kind of things. He _reveled_ in them. In the two years they had been dating he had forced Damian to see countless romantic comedies, bought him heaps of red roses, left wall upon walls of saccharine post it notes with the most disgustingly adorable and ridiculous messages Damian had ever laid his eyes on and in short---

In short Damian was screwed. 

On their first valentine’s day he and Jon had just started dating, and were barely past the holding hands phase, since apparently even being older than him didn’t make Jon less of a goofball, and then in the Valentine of last year a convenient alien invasion had saved him the embarrassment. 

This year, however he had no excuse.

And he didn’t really have a problem going along with any kind of disgustingly romantic shit Jon had surely planned but… he felt like he should do something for him too. 

Not just that he should, but that he actually wanted to. 

He had no idea what however, and all those _idiotic_ commercials were not helping him any. 

The heteronormativity of most of them was, quite frankly, _appalling_ , and even those related to gay couples were...less than savory. 

He was not going to be as cheap as to buy Jon chocolate, nor was he going to feed into capitalism and buy some inane heart shaped gift, or couple mugs, or couple pillows, or -gods above and below forbid- cover himself in chocolate like that _absurd_ website had the audacity to suggest _what on earth were people even thinking, that sounded absolutely disgusting._

He was still musing on human stupidity and the need westerners seemed to have to hoard every single stupid holiday they came across when something caught his eye.

He was in the drug store close by his apartment complex, buying some new solid toothpaste when his eyes landed on the magazine rack. 

A sparkling pink monstrosity recited: "wanna surprise your man for valentine's day? Take our test to find the perfect solution!"

He stared at it, unmoving like a statue. 

Then took a step. 

Then another. 

He picked it up, and robotically walked up to the registers. 

He handed it to the teenaged cashier keeping his face utterly emotionless.

He paid for it and then walked out, his very first copy of "SUPERTEEN VALENTINE'S SPECIAL" tightly clutched to his chest in abject horror. 

For the rest of the day he ignored it. Found every way to put it off, even went as far as to hide the damned thing inside a kitchen cupboard containing only the awful cereal he only used when Richard came visiting. 

He was not gonna do it. He wasn't going to stoop this low. 

Never. 

Ever. 

Not even for Jon. 

He kept to his word well enough for 15 hours.

After which Jon presented himself at his door, with his stupidly perfect hair, his stupidly perfect smile, his frankly stupid glasses, a box of Damian's favorite Turkish delights and a stupidly adorable succulent plant to add to Damian's growing collection. 

"Happy valentine's eve eve eve eve eve!" He said all cheery.

...Damian really needed to start looking into finding the ones responsible for exporting Valentine's day in the US. Or at least their descendants.

"Justice, not vengeance" his conscience tried to say -sounding suspiciously like his father- but Damian squashed the thought like a bug. 

WHERE WAS THE JUSTICE FOR HIM?

"That can't be a thing" he finally settled on, begrudgingly accepting the gifts.

"It is now. I decided it. A single day is not enough to show how much I love my absolutely perfect, amazing, beautiful, adorable boyfriend" he said, punctuating every compliment with a peck on the nose. 

"You… you! Get away from me!" He batted Jon's attentions away, flustered. 

"This is ridiculous! You are ridiculous!"

"And you love me, so I feel like that says something more about you than me there, babe"

Damian couldn't dispute that.

It was later that night -or should he say early into next morning- that he waved Jon goodbye as he flew back to Metropolis after their joined patrol...ending in their usual, uh… tête-à-tête in a Gotham alleyway, and he walked back home, then to his kitchen, opened the 'Richard cupboard' and took out his sparkling doom. 

This, he realized, was his lowest moment. 

The test was quite simple. 

It was a series of questions, at the end of which he would get a numeric total that matched with one of seven options.

He took a deep breath, and started to read.

“THIS IS BLOODY RIDICULOUS” he screamed ten minutes later. 

How could this even help him? None of the answers was something he would even remotely answer for himself. 

_“What is your ideal date?_

  1. _a stroll through the park_
  2. _movie night_
  3. _dinner at a fancy restaurant”_



Where was d. going out in costume to beat criminals? Did it fall under the ‘stroll through the park’ category? Fine. 

_“where do you prefer your boyfriend to kiss you?_

  1. _the neck_
  2. _the mouth_
  3. _the nose”_



THAT was none of these people's business. He wasn’t going to answer that! Degenerates! He was an Al Ghul. He did NOT have a favorite place for kissing. He was a warrior! Nose kisses?! TT. _RIDICULOUS._

_“what kind of outfit would make him go crazy?_

  1. _cute maid outfit_
  2. _sexy nurse_
  3. _sexy police uniform “_



Damian tried to imagine himself in any of them. He shuddered. As if Jon would even want to see him in a _maid outfit_. Or as a sexy nurse? How could a nurse even be sexy? he tried to google it. Yeah, NOPE. And a police outfit?? What was he gonna do, steal Jim’s Gordon old ratty coat? Yeah that was going to blow Jon’s mind. 

sure.

When he finally got to the last, horrible question, he felt exhausted. 

Worse than a double round with bane and Killer Crock all together. 

He debated not even counting his points -as they didn’t reflect him at all- but then the beaming adoring face of his boyfriend picked from behind the clouds of his frustrations and…

_From 70 to 95 points: BE SOFT_

_The keyword this Valentine is SOFTNESS._

_Show your boy how much you love him by showing your cute, caring side. Cuddles, snuggles and fluff are a must! Pastel colors and lace lingerie your special weapons! Make him feel special and wanted and he will treat you like the princess you secretly want to be!_

Damian read it again. And again. 

And again.

He closed his eyes.

A deep inhale through his nose, and a deeper exhale through his mouth.

He grabbed the two opposite corners of the magazine and TORE. 

One time, two times, three, then he lost count. A stream of confetti burst all around him, Alfred the cat jumping from his perch to catch the sparkling preys. 

Princess? PRINCESS? PASTEL COLORS AND LACE LINGERIE?? CUDDLES SNUGGLES AND FLUFF???

Damian didn't do soft. There was NOTHING soft about him. He was an ex assassin. A bat. A warrior. And when around Jon in particular, SOFT was definitely not a good adjective to describe him. 

And Jon like him like that. 

Right…?

Right. No doubt about it, as Jon proved him again that night by showing against a brick wall of a Gotham dirty alleyway. This was them. High on adrenaline, going at it hard and fast and there was nothing SOFT about it. And Damian wanted it like that. He NEEDED it. 

Their first time, a few months before, had been just like that, sprung from an argument. 

And Damian loved it, he loved seeing his usually sweet and naive boyfriend absolutely lose it, turn rough, a red gleam in his usually baby blue eyes as he shoved Damian's tight kevlar legging down his tights, lifted him up like he waited nothing and trusted right in…

"Oh, god Jon, yes" he muttered, as he felt his body jolt up against the rough wall, and his head arch back.

Jon turned kind of feral in those moments, incoherent, and it was beautiful, powerful, perfect.

Cuddles and snuggles his arse. 

Him, being all soft and snuggly? Jon would laugh. It would be undignified. He didn't need that. 

He didn't.

...right…?

Later, as Jon deposited him on his apartment balcony, Damian noted, like every time their escapades ended up a certain way, that Jon looked sheepish and kind of guilty. 

That was the part he didn't understand.

"Is something the matter, Jon?"

"Uh…? Ah, no…? I'm good! Great! Uuumh… are you ok?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"I… I didn't…" then Jon shook his head "nothing, never mind. I guess… I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"... sure"

"Love you"

"And I, you"

Jon walked up to him, lowered his head and gave Damian a gentle peck on his lips, none of the roughness from before. 

Damian felt his face flare up, his stomach coil and his breath catch. 

By the time he realized what was going on, Jon was gone already. 

"TT. Stupid Kryptonians with their stupid pretty faces and cryptic behavior! It makes no sense!" He complained for what felt like the hundredth time while zooming with Maya.

"Uh, uh. Sure. Stupid kryptonians. That’s the problem here"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Ducard"

"Of course you don't"

He furrowed his brows at her in frustration.

"I detected some sarcasm"

"Well, you are the son of the greatest detective in the world!"

"Maya!!!" 

She started to laugh "what do you want me to say?"

"I called you for help, not to get sassed"

She sobered up, even though he could see it cost her great effort.

"Look. I think he wants your relationship to grow and he doesn't know how to tell you!"

"I am not gonna marry him at 18, Maya. We are both still going to college, in different cities and-"

"Wha, wha, who said anything about marriage?!"

"How else can our relationship grow? Marriage is the logical next step!"

"I- jesus, Dami. No, it's not? What he’s probably lacking is...intimacy"

"We are plenty intimate. Or did you fail to understand the meaning or our 'alleyway trists'?"

"That's not intimacy"

"He litterally -"

"Please DO NOT finish that sentence" Maya stopped him face palming.

Damian blushed.

"You started it! And anyway, what's more intimate than that???"

"I don't know, cuddles? Sleeping together? _Living together?_ You know, complicity"

"We are partners. Both in fighting and in romance. And we can't be living together cause we defend different cities! And what's the use of sleeping together? It's impractical. My sleeping schedule is erratic. And I would not be able to sleep with someone else. What if I snore? Or have nightmares? What if… my animals could bother him. He has to study I can't-"

"Ok. Stop. Just….stop. Ok, fine you're not ready to move in together. But what about cuddling? Netflix and chill? Or you know, actually having sex on an actual bed?"

Damian blushed again. 

"Are you trying to imply Jon isn't satisfied by our current arrangements?" 

"You'd have to ask him that. But Jon is a romantic guy. Maybe he wants to treat you right, for once?" 

"I don't feel mistreated in any way"

"Ok, fine, but don't you want to...you know, enjoy things more… domestic setting?"

"I don't see what's the difference"

"Jesus, Damian, there is a world of difference!!!" 

He stopped to think about that. He tried to imagine it. Not relaying on the adrenaline of battle. He imagined just being in his apartment with Jon, leading him to his room, letting Jon gently take him in his arms, kissing his cheek, his nose, his lips, the arch of his neck. He imagined his breath stutter as his warm hands traveled under his shirt, caressing all his scars, he imagined baring himself to let Jon see all of him and…

NOPE. 

His brain stuttered to a complete alt. 

"Damian? Little brother? Did I break you?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. 

"Oh, dear. I broke him, didn't I"

He couldn't do that. He just couldn't. 

"Is the video frozen? Damiiiiii"

"I...am not frozen"

"Oh. Good. Just broken then"

He raised his eyes to look at her dark ones through the grainy screen of his mac.

"Am I…?" He asked feebly.

Maya's eyes went wide.

"Oh, gods, Dami no!!! I didn't mean it like that I just-"

" I know you didn't but...I see what you meant. I… I love Jon. Maya, I do! But if I think about...doing that, with him, I just… I can't. I just...Can't. I AM broken. There is something so horribly wrong with me"

"There isn't! Please, listen to me! Hey!" She called him to force his gaze up from the spot in the bed cover he had fixated upon " you aren't broken, ok? It's tough! Being intimate with someone, it's tough! In the movies they make it look so easy, but in reality… you put everything on the table and have no idea how the other is gonna receive it!"

"But it's Jon! I trust Jon! I care about him more than anyone else!"

"And that only makes it tougher"

He stayed silent for a bit, thinking of what to say. On what to do. He felt so confused, all of a sudden.

"Dami, look. You don't have to push yourself to do anything you are not comfortable with. Jon loves you. He will understand. He will wait"

"I don't want to make him wait"

_What if he gets tired of too much waiting._

_What if…_

"He wouldn't want you to force yourself"

"But I do! I...I want to make him happy"

"Then try to understand your reasons? Try to understand what makes you so uncomfortable? Everyone has the power to change. You are the living embodiment of that, baby brother"

"I am only two years younger than you!"

"YES BUT YOU ARE SO TINY"

"I AM TALLER THAN YOU NOW!!!" 

"And you are just as cute as when you were 11!"

"I'm closing this thing".

The day after that he decided to go wait for Jon to get out of class, a cup of the disgustingly sweet thing Jon dared to call coffee steaming in his hand. 

He might not be able to bare himself naked for Jon yet or spend the night curled all around him like one of poison Ivy's vines but he could do this. He could make things right, he would make Jon happy. It's what he strived to do. He only needed to up his game. 

He had spent the night trying to, as Maya had so gently put it 'understand his reasons', without much luck. 

He had stripped himself, stood in front of his bathroom’s mirror, and looked at his image. 

He had never liked to show too much skin. It was something that had been installed in him since he was little. In the league, even though it was a den of literally assassins, rules were strict and he was expected to be proper and well dress at any time, not a hair out of place, usually covered from neck to toes, except during ceremonies, when clothes would be a bit more revealing. Once he had moved to Gotham he had just kept it up, mostly out of habit, as a kind of safety blanket. 

It wasn’t that he was displeased with the way he looked.

He knew he looked good. His body was perfectly sculpted. Even with the crisscross of scars littering his body, he had nothing to be ashamed of. Intellectually he knew that.

And yet...the idea of letting Jon _see_ all of him, at his most vulnerable, _while having sex…_

Just… no.

What if…

What if… Jon…

"Dami?!" a voice tore him out of his musings.

He turned to find a very surprised Jon running up to him, his cheeks puffed up by his smile and made rosy by pleasure upon seeing him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?!"

"I...wanted to surprise you. I can do that. Surprise my boyfriend"

He didn't miss the way Jon's eyes widened at being called that.

"Well, color me surprised. And very happy to see you. Omg is that caramel macchiato? I LOVE YOU"

"...And I, you"

He accompanied Jon home that afternoon, and he was quite happy to find the apartment devoid of annoying overbearing parents (Damian really couldn’t fathom still wanting to live with your parents at 21. He had booted himself from the manor the day after turning 18 a few months before and hadn’t looked back since). 

"You can stay??" Jon asked in surprise when he denied having anything urgent to call him back to Gotham. 

He tried to remember when it was the last time he had been with Jon like this. Just basking in each other's presence during a free afternoon.

He was ashamed of noticing that between universities, patrol and his rising responsibilities at WE, those moments had been too few and far in between.

"I… of course"

"But yesterday you said that you had to work on those cases"

Damian walked up to Jon, extended a hand to brush away some dark curls. 

"They can wait. I wanna stay here"

Jon's eyes filled with stars. 

See? He could do this. He could… be soft. For Jon. 

He even managed to push off his shoes, sit on the sofa, lean against Jon's side while they watch some inane cartoon. He didn't even flinch when Jon's arm came to circle his shoulders to pull him closer.

Take that, superteen girl valentine special. He was cuddling. And he was doing it like a pro.

Later, when Jon leaned even closer to start gently kissing his ear, Damian's confidence started to falter a bit.

Jon moved to kiss his apple cheek, and then the corner of his mouth, nuzzling his face until he turned to face him. 

Jon's eyes were lowered, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His eyes were blue, however, not red, and there was no adrenaline or battle lust glazing at them. Just love. And a whole lot of expectations. 

Damian swallowed. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't. If his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest it was because he was excited! Yes, of course! And Jon must have registered as such because he proceeded to shuffle their position to push Damian until he was laying flat on the black leather sofa. 

He could do this. HE COULD. This was nice. Jon's weight was on him, warm and comforting, and they were safe. His kisses weren't bruising and devouring as they usually were during their escapades, but lingering, gentle, savoring. He felt cared for. Loved. And after a while he even managed to relax, a sparkle of lust starting to simmer in the pit of his stomach, like an oncoming tide. 

He could do this. He _wanted_ to do this. 

Slowly he lifted his hands, and carded them in Jon's hair, caressing through them with all the care he could master. It felt so weird. Like an out of body experience. 

Jon's answer was instantaneous. His kisses grew deeper and more urgent, and a demanding hardness made itself known against Damian's hip. Jon liked this. He wanted it. 

And Damian had been depriving him. 

Bracing himself, he silently swore. No more. 

He answered Jon's kisses in kind, his tongue coming to trace his lips, his teeth nibbling at the plush skin. He let one hand fall from Jon's hair to slither down Jon's t-shirt, to feel the strong muscles of his back move under his fingers. 

It felt nice. It felt wonderful, in fact, to feel Jon like this, to feel him excited and know that it was all HIM. He had made him so. He lifted slightly his left thigh, pressing it against Jon's crotch and he felt the other boy shudder.

"Dami. Oh, Rao, Dami Dami, Dami!" He repeated over and over, like a mantra or a prayer. And Damian felt himself starting to get off of it. Why had he denied himself this again? This was perfect. Brilliant, amazing-

Oh.

That was Jon's hand under his shirt. 

Touching his skin. His scars. Didn't he had that old yellowing bruise on his hip? What was he even wearing underneath his outer clothes? Was he even clean? He had sweated before coming here WHAT IF-

"Jon. Jon!"

Jon only grunted as his hand was coming up to his nipple, right by the ugly scar the heretic's sword had left and-

"JON!" he half screamed, and finally seemed to take Jon out of his pleasure induced stupor.

"...what…?" He lifted his head from where it had been buried in Damian's neck and his eyes widened, probably registering the fear in Damian's "Dami, what…?"

Then several things happened at once. 

Jon's look of stupor turned to horror and in a moment he had detached himself from Damian, straightened both of their clothes, grabbed a blanket and thrown it on their lap. Damian had no idea what was going on and was getting more and more afraid that he had finally pushed Jon away for good, when he heard what Jon had probably heard way before him, but still too late.

The front door opened.

"-nd I said to him, you know what, if he wanted someone to write a crappy article on the Ceo of Jenkins and Jonas he should find someone else to bait their eyelash-oh. Hi! Didn't know you guys were here!" Lois called, juggling several bags of groceries while holding her phone with her shoulder.

"Feel free to come help me at any time, boys!"

When no help was forthcoming, as both of them were frozen in shock, she turned to give them a good look "what is wrong with-OH" She repeated. Her eyes widening. 

Yeah. They probably weren't fooling anyone. 

"Well, then" she said, raising an eyebrow "no, not to you. I have to hang up I'll call you back"

She turned to stand where they could see all of her, her hand on her hips.

"Did I interrupt something?" She asked. 

As if she couldn't tell.

"NOPE" They both answered in unison. 

And then proceeded to cringe in equal synchrony.

"Well I'm gonna put these away" she pointed at the groceries “use that time to...collect yourselves. Clark is gonna be here soon" she smirked seeing Damian's face crumple horror.

"Yeah, time to go" Damian muttered, flinging away the blanket. It wasn't like there was anything to cover anymore.

"Wait!" Jon called, grabbing his hand "Jon, let go!"

_I need to go bury myself somewhere no one will ever find me again._

"I...let me at least accompany you to the door"

"...sure"

They had to cross the kitchen to get to the door, unfortunately.

"Leaving, already? You could stay for dinner!"

"Thank you for the offer, miss Kent, but I promised Dad I would visit home tonight. The others will be there too. Thank you" 

When he was about to cross the door Jon grabbed him again.

"Are you sure you're alright? You looked… strange before"

Great. Jon had totally seen him freeze and was now feeling bad about it. Just what Damian wanted.

"I'm fine! I just… your parents. I had heard them"

It was a feeble excuse, but Jon being the gentle person he was, let him have it.

"Sorry about that" he tried to smile sheepishly "I was a bit...too distracted? I should have heard her come…"

"It's fine. I was...distracted too"

Jon lowered his head a little, as if he was peering into Damian's eyes for answers and for a second Damian thought he was going to kiss him. But then Jon straightened up, gave him a sad smile. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow for patrol then"

"...of course"

"Goodnight, dami"

Goodnight Jon"

That night Damian could barely sleep. He kept tossing and turning in his old bed, fighting against the covers until he finally gave up on sleep and got up for some much needed fresh air. 

What was wrong with him? It’s not like he never had sex with Jon! So why the fuck was he acting like a blushing virgin??? HIM? Damian Al Ghul Wayne, a blushing ANYTHING? 

He wasn’t scared. He refused to even consider the possibility. And he WASN’T ashamed of his body. No sir. Not him. 

He was perfect. 

He was. 

And yet...

He turned for the hundredth time, flipping on his back and staring at the white ceiling of his room, Gotham’s night lights coloring it a faint orange. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. 

He imagined Jon, there with him, his blue eyes glinting in the dark, his pretty, mischievous smile gleaming as he crawled on top of him, bracing his head with his strong arms…

He would murmur sweet nothings in his ear like the absolute sap he was, he would cherish him, he would make him feel loved...and that terrorized him. 

Cause what could he give back? He didn’t do loving. Great, romantic gestures weren’t his thing. He tried to show love in small actions, in trust, in the attention he gave those he held most dear. It was written between the lines in tiny tiny script, and in fact, it was those people that had learned how to read it that became his most beloved. Dick, Alfred, Maya, Jon.

But what if that wasn’t enough? Did he even know how to do more? How to give more? 

No. 

Yes. 

Yes. He could learn. He could do better, be better, for Jon. 

Jon deserved it. He deserved to be loved, and cherished, and cared for. 

He had to make things right, NO. He wanted to. 

So he did what he did best. He planned. Considered all options, tackled his problem from every possible angle. It took him all night, but at the end, he had a perfectly constructed plan A, and a practical plan B, and a pretty good plan C, just in case, and a laundry list of preparations to be ticked off A.S.A.P.

His father would be proud. 

That is, unless he knew his strategy revolved around the best way to have sex with his boyfriend, but...he didn’t need to know that. 

At the first light of dawn he sprang out of bed like a soldier at morning call, and got to work. 

It was a busy two days, in which he ran up and down like a mad man, with every one of Alfred's teachings on house keeping ringing in his ears. It wouldn’t do to have Jon over in a dirty house. It wouldn’t do to have Jon over sleeping in a not perfectly made bed with new, silken sheets. And the bathroom! It wouldn’t do to have Jons over to sleep in his house and possibly step in a dirty bathroom! AND THE KITCHEN. What if he woke up in the middle of the night, and he had a craving for those vegan gummy bears he said he liked that time when---

“DAMIAN!”

“WHAT?” he half screamed. 

But only cause Maya had screamed first. 

Right. 

“Aren’t you overthinking this a little?”

“No, I’m not”

“You are cleaning the tiles of your bathroom with a toothbrush!!”

“THE GROUT JOINTS HAVE MOLD IN THEM. MOLD!!!”

“I doubt Jon gives a fuck about your grout joints, Dami”

“BUT-”

“NO! NO BUTS! HE DOESN’T!”

“Well, then I don’t want a dirty bathroom. There. What’s wrong with me cleaning my bathroom while talking with my best friend? I’m multitasking”

“You went on the other side of town to buy vegan gummy bears”

“Jon likes them” 

“You just read me the labels of five, and I repeat, FIVE different kind of lube. Like I know anything about it! And it wasn’t even because of usefulness, it was about scent! Who gives a crap about-”

“Smells can be very disruptive-”

“DAMIIIIIIIIII”

“OK, FINE! If you don’t want to talk with me then-”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to talk to you! I’m fine with talking to you for hours! Days, even! And frankly having you rant about lube is hilarious, BUT.”

“You said no buts”

The silence she gave him over the screen shut him up. 

She was scary like that. 

“Why are you so nervous about this?”

“I’m not!”

More silence, accompanied by a nonplussed flat stare. 

Damian huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“I just want it to be perfect”

“It won’t be if in the middle of it you start worrying about the state of your bathroom tiles, you spork”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“oh, Jon, that felt so good, but you know, I just remembered there is mold on the tiles of my bathroom, if you could just wait a second and let me grab my handy dandy toothbrush….” she said in a mock high pitched voice. 

His eyes widened “I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT!” 

“I’m just gonna dgo give it a little scrub! Here, I got you a matching one, come help me! It won’t take a minute” she kept going, relentless.

“OMG I HATE YOU. I’M HANGING UP”

“Here, let me show you how. You grab it, like that, move your hand up and down! Like this!” She continued, making a gesture with her hands that… 

“MAYA DUCARD I AM ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY SISTER”

She finally burst out laughing, looking at his eyes squeezed shut against the horror. 

“I hate you. I really do. I will never be able to clean my bathroom without thinking of that now. Shame. Shame on you” he lamented, scrubbing his face with his hands as if to rub the memory out of his very brain. 

She laughed harder “Well, but that’s a good thing!”

“No, it’s not!” 

Her laughter died down after a minute. 

“ok, fine, I’ll stop. but really, Dami. Stop thinking. Stop planning, and DEAR GOD, LEAVE YOUR BATHROOM GROUT JOINTS ALONE. I swear to you Jon will not care about them”

“Ok, FINE. It’s not like I have time to do much more anyway. V-day is tomorrow”

“Right. So, what are you gonna do?”

“Uh, I asked him to come over. I’ll make dinner and then...then we’ll see”

“MMmh… sounds like a plan. So, on a lighter note, what are you gonna wear?”

Damian blinked. 

“What?”

“...what are you gonna wear? As in...clothes”

Damian blinked again. 

“I mean… you have to be wearing something. At least for the first half of it….right?”

“fuck”

The clothes. HE KNEW HE HAD FORGOTTEN SOMETHING. 

“FUCK” he sprang up, running to his wardrobe and tearing it open.

“Damian, it’s ok. Jon won’t care-”

“I have nothing to wear!”

“Jon won’t care!”

“But-”

“No, Damian-”

I have to go”

“WHERE?”

“To buy clothes”

“But-”

“bye”

How could he had forgotten the clothes!?! It was like planning an attack on a Scarecrow den and forgetting the rebreather. Poor planning. He should be ashamed. 

He passed the same shop in the wretched mall for the tenth time. Nothing looked right. Nothing was ok. Things either looked pretentious, or too uncomfortable, or too tight. He had considered a pair of skinny jeans for a second there before trying to imagine having to get out of them in the heat of the moment and getting stuck. NOPE. 

He passed another shop for the third time, one with an overabundance of red in the display window and a line to get in, that kept taunting him, over and over. 

A lingerie shop.

Things were very easy for girls. 

They could just walk in one of those and blow the socks off any stupid guy-boyfriend they had. They didn’t need a perfectly clean bathroom to impress if they could wear THAT. 

He stopped to stare a little, lost in thought. 

“ _The keyword this Valentine is SOFTNESS._

_Show your boy how much you love him by showing your cute, caring side. Cuddles, snuggles and fluff are a must! Pastel colors and lace lingerie are your special weapons! Make him feel special and wanted and he will treat you like the princess you secretly want to be!”_

…

…….

…………

no.

FUCK NO. 

No. 

Just…

He looked at the display again. 

The lace. The ruffles. 

Did straight guys really like that? He guessed it was cute. Pleasing to the eyes, on the right body shape. Soft to the touch…

….

FUCK NO, AND FUCK THE SUPER TEEN VALENTINE SHIT. 

He would look RIDICULOUS. 

just...no. 

He turned his back on the preposterous shop. 

He stepped with purpose into a generic male clothes shop. One of those that had everything, from socks to ties. He was getting out of there with nice clothes. Just that. As Maya said, Jon wouldn’t really care. He had to get a hold of himself. 

Half an hour later he had a pair of black ripped jeans firmly clutched in his hands, a grey shirt, a black jacket. PERFECT. 

He was power walking to the cashier when he saw it. 

With the corner of his eyes. 

He turned. 

He walked up to it, his head tilted. 

It was a huge grey knitted sweater with a wide neck. it was long enough that it would probably reach mid tight.

It was preposterous. 

He touched it. 

It felt like Pennyworth’s fur. 

Soft. Everyone kept telling him he had to be soft. 

Finding comfort in clothing sounded ridiculous. 

And yet… 

He grabbed it. 

He paid for everything. 

He had made it. He had everything. And yet… 

He stopped, a few steps from the exit. 

“What the hell” he murmured, and turned on his steps.

"I don't know what to say Dami. I feel ashamed of every attempt I ever made to cook something from you. This was great"

Damian blushed. 

"They were Alfred's recipes"

"And you followed them to perfection"

Silence.

Awkward silence.

This would not do.

The evening had gone great until this moment. There had been a few awkward moments at first but then Damian had busied himself with each step of his plan and things had gone smoothly. Mostly.

But now… 

Now…

They were at point B, 'THE DINNER' and Damian really wanted to get them to point C, "THE BEDROOM" but… 

...how?

There was no enemy to defeat. 

No task to complete. 

No puzzle to unlock. 

Just him, and Jon, AND THE SILENCE.

And Jon was looking awkwardly to the side. A sign of something unsaid. 

Great.

"Dami…"

And there it was.

Damian braced himself.

"I… I wanted to apologize for the other night"

"What"

"At my home, you know…"

"You already did. And you have nothing to apologize for"

"I know but.. I feel like I pushed you to do something you weren't...willing to do"

"We only kissed, we've kissed before"

"...yeah...about that too"

This was going terribly. His plans were all up in flames. PLAN B. IT WAS TIME FOR PLAN B. 

He stood up, a bit less graceful than he would have liked, plastering on the fakest of fake smiles.

"Look, wanna go to the living room? We can...watch a movie…?"

_It had worked last time._

He sprang for the living room, still creepily smiling. 

Jon grabbed his arm.

"Dami…"

The kryptonian stood up, grabbed his other hand, towering over him. Damn kryptonians and their stupid LENGHT.

"Please...stop"

"I was just…"

"I know. Just...listen to me"

Damian stopped then, biting his lip in frustration as his practical plan B went up in smoke along with plan A. And probably plan C as well. (Plan C was pretty crap after all, if he was being honest with himself).

Plan D….?

"You don't have to do all this," Jon said, smiling sadly.

"Do all what"

"This!" Jon gestured to the house at large.

"I don't have to have a house?"

Jon made a frustrated sound "you know what I mean! I know YOU Damian. I know the amount of effort you must have put in all this! And I want you to know you don't have to!"

"You don't like it…?" Had he overdone it? Had he done it wrong? DID JON HATED IT?

"NO! Gods, no, I love it! I do! I wanna cry, it's so perfect! You're perfect! Straight out of a fairytale! But that's not the point. This isn't YOU. You...don't have to try to be different. I love you as you"

"But… I want it to be…" 

He was confused. And Damian Wayne didn't like to be confused. He liked things to be clear, well ordered and predictable.

"It doesn't have to be. Not if you get all stressed about it!"

"I'm not-"

"You are. I can tell. I could literally hear you thinking every detail through from the moment I stepped in until now"

"That's the way I am!"

"On missions, yes! But this isn't a mission, D. It's us. I want you to be...just you"

Damian frowned. 

"You don't have to force yourself to do what you don't want to do just because you think I do. I can wait. Or we can never even take that step. I'm fine with things staying like this. I just want to be with you!"

"But…"

"I love you, Damian Al Ghul Wayne" he said, stepping into his space and cupping his face gently "and you don't have to say it back".

Damian looked to the side, and with a sigh he rested his forehead against Jon's chest. 

To hell with plan D as well.

"But...what if I want to…?"

"What?"

He stepped back and looked up in Jon's eyes "what if I want to?? What if I want to do all those things I know you want, but I just… don't know how? Cause I don't. I have no clue. But Jon… I WANT TO. I do"

He felt Jon's breath hitch. "...you do…?"

"Yes"

"Well, then…"

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn't even nearly so. It didn’t go smoothly like he had planned for plan A. It wasn't the result of some suggestive glances or hands moves on the sofa with some crappy movie for background like he had planned for plan B. A mysterious enemy had not dropped from the ceiling like he had feebly hoped for plan C either. 

It was awkward at first and painfully so. He didn't feel like himself in the stupid fancy clothes he had bought the day before. So he made Jon wait outside his room -like an idiot- cause he wanted to change. And then to take a shower. And then… then he had steeled himself and grabbed what he had bought after running back into the mall. Or actually...what he had failed completely to buy after running back into the mall and had ordered online after coming back home with some super fast shipping option. 

He had worn the items for the first time, looked at himself, felt the way they sat on his smoothly shaven skin. So soft. So flimsy. So very different from leather and kevlar. 

Then he had climbed on the bed, messing up his crafty draped silken sheet beyond repair and had whispered "come here", lighter than a prayer, and closed his eyes. 

He didn't hear footsteps, but a few seconds later he felt the air move in front of him, the bed dip and a sigh.

He opened his eyes to find Jon kneeling in front of him, looking at him with pure adoration and wonder. 

"...Dami…" he said breathily.

Damian squirmed, pushing his knees more firmly against his chest pushing his body in a tight ball. 

"Before you say anything- he started, hating how unsure his voice sounded -I didn't wear this for you. I'm wearing it for myself, cause it's comfortable and it makes me feel…"

_Pretty._

He didn't say. 

He wouldn't say it. 

Not him.

He didn't need to. 

"Pretty. You are so pretty" Jon said, crawling up to him, until he was able to put a hand on Damian's knee, as if to caress the knee length knitted socks. 

“No, I’m not”

Damian had bought them for himself. Because they looked so warm. And comfortable. They covered his scars, made him feel protected - as absurd as it was- but also…

"Let me see you...please" Jon said, nudging his toes slightly apart with his knee. It was the uncertainty in his voice that gave Damian that last bit of courage he needed.

This was Jon. His Jon. 

It couldn’t be perfect. It was them. it didn’t have to be. They were two rejects, two weirdos, an ex assassin, son of a lunatic that dressed like a bat at night, and an half alien who had spent six years trapped in a volcano by an evil version of his father. 

They couldn’t be perfect. 

They didn’t need to be. 

He sighed softly and uncurled from his protective stance, letting his legs gently unfold on either side of Jon’s much bigger frame and his back hit the pillows behind him.

Jon swallowed visibly, sitting back on his hunches. His hands travelled from his knee to his ankle, tracing the ridges of the knitted work, in his serpentine braids, until they were resting around his ankle, and then on his foot, rubbing circles on the top of it with his thumb. 

It sent sparks up Damian spine, his skin breaking in goosebumps. 

The other hand… came to caress the soft grey sweater, on Damian’s stomach. 

“They match” he said, still whispering. 

“Of course. Who do you take me for?”

Jon smirked.

“Control freak”

“Ah!”

“I love them” Jon said, eyes half lidded, hand traveling up, and up, across his abdomen, up his side, across his sternum all the way to his neck, to linger on the naked patch on his right shoulder, where the wide neck of the sweater dipped down the top of his arm. 

“I love YOU” he breathed against his lips, before finally kissing him, softly at first, and then more intently, his weight coming to rest on top of Damian, covering him completely like a blanket. 

Bless Kryptonians and their BULK. 

It dwarfed him completely. It created a space for just the two of them, where nothing else mattered. A microcosmos, where all he knew was Jon, where the very air was something sacred, that they shared. 

“Beloved” he said, for the first time. It was Jon’s name, he realized at that moment, even if he had never called him that before. Those words, coming out of his mouth, belonged to Jon and Jon only. 

His beloved drew back, eyes wide, pupils blown, and Damian smirked.

“Don’t make me wait. i wanna feel you” he said, feeling quite smug at the obvious effect he was having on Jon. He tugged at his shirt, wanting it off, wanting to touch, to taste...Jon practically ripped it off. 

A problem for Damian of the future. Damian of the present had something much more pressing to do. 

He spread his legs wider, circling Jon’s hips with them and pushing him even closer, his hands tracing the shapes of muscles, every ridge and cranny with his fingers barely picking out of the too long sleeves of his sweater. Jon’s breath was coming in short, and his mouth trailed wet kisses up and down his neck, sending shiver across his frame. Damian wanted, he wanted...he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just WANTED. Then Jon drew back, and Damian emitted a sound of protest, until he saw Jon’s hand come to unlatch his pants to slip them off. Jon’s eyes looked feral, hungry, the blue of them just a slit.

Then that slit disappeared. His eyes widened, as he focused on…

oh…

right. 

Damian had almost forgotten.

He gave Jon an evil smirk, not that Jon had noticed. He was too fixated on much more south than his face. 

Feeling emboldened, Damian grabbed the edge of his sweater and dragged them up, showing off his boxers briefs to Jon. 

He hadn’t meant to buy them. He hadn’t. But then he had. He had put them on. And he hadn’t want to take them off.

“Do you like them?” he asked innocently. 

Jon didn’t answer. his mouth was agape making him look like an idiot. 

Damian was loving every second of it. This felt like winning. 

Maybe superteen valentine whatever did hold some truth. 

Black lace looked damned good on him. 

Jon’s hands hovered over them, so close to where Damian wanted them, he could feel the heat seeping through the flimsy material. So he bucked his hips up, closing the gap, feeling the warm palm rest on his hardening cock. 

“Jon...please” he begged, closing his eyes. 

The bed dipped, as Jon shifted and...Damian’s eyes burst open again as he cried out, looking down. 

What he saw was so lewd he wanted to close his eyes back, while never wanting to look away ever again.

It looked so good...

Jon’s lips mouthed all along his shaft, licking and tasting making the lace and silk so wet his member was starting to peak out of the fabric. 

He covered his eyes with his sleeves, unable to take anymore, his legs caging Jon’s head in a death grip, if to push him away or keep him there, Damian didn’t know. 

Heat pooled low in his belly, slow and simmering and so painfully sweet, as Jon’s wet mouth traced the shape of him, his finger slipping under the hem on his left thigh, running along the curve of it, and then down, to grasp at his glut. Damian wanted more, his breath escaped him in a growing staccato, out of control, and his voice threatened to slip out, broken and high pitched and completely humiliating. He moved his sleeves from his eyes down to his mouth, biting on the soft material, gagging himself, as Jon drove him crazy. Then a long flick of the tongue dragged from the bottom of his balls all the way up to his tip and he lost it.

He screamed, extended his hands towards Jon, grabbing at his hair, his ears, anything he could get his hold on and pulled him in, toward his mouth, ever so sweet, to kiss and bite and taste and- “please! pleasepleaseplease” he repeated over and over, while Jon nip at his bottom lip, sucked on his tongue, snaked a hand inside his sweater to find his nipples and take away even the last bit of sanity Damian had left. 

Jon laughed when he saw the neat row of lube bottles waiting for him in the bedside drawer. 

“shut up” Damian found the strength to mumble “I wanted to give you the choice!” 

“Mmmmmmmh” 

Jon grabbed each different bottle to read the label with his left hand, while his left one massaged the underside of his tight, drawing Damian up the fucking wall.

“JUST” he started to scream, as the hand came VERY close but not nearly close enough to his ass “just pick one! I DON’T CARE” 

He swore he could hear Maya laughing all the way from France!

Jon finally settled on the pink one. 

Of course.

“Pretty pink cherry” he smirked “For my pretty pink boy”

“I’m not pink!”

“Aren’t you?” Jon asked, pinching the underside of one plump cheek. 

Blood rushed to Damian’s face.

He scrunched his nose in annoyance, extended a hand, pushed down Jon’s untouched blue boxers causing his considerable shaft to sprain free and he grabbed it, all in one sweeping motion. With slitted eyes he dragged his hand up and flicked his wrist watching with satisfaction Jon’s own face turned redder than his cape.

Still firmly clutching his price he pulled Jon down for a bruising kiss and growled against his mouth “get on with it, superboy” and squeezed. 

Jon shut up after that.

He made quick work of coating his finger in the sweet smelling gel, working each one of them in and out of his entrance, without even taking off the lace briefs. Damian took in the assault, busy with his own self appointed task. Once he had found himself with Jon’s cock in hand he had found that he quite liked it there, and had seized the discarded pink bottle to lavishly coat his own hand in it to happily work it up and down the shaft. That made Jon quite sloppy and distracted, dragging the whole preparation for quite longer than necessary, but Damian found it quite worth it. 

It was a mess of sticky hands, and wet kisses and tangled sheets. 

A true disgrace. 

They both revealed in every second. 

When finally Jon deemed him ready and he had found he couldn’t take Damian’s teasing anymore, he took hold of the back of Damian’s knees, pulled them up and down, against Damian’s chest. 

They went quite far. 

“I love how flexible you are…”

Damian grabbed his own legs to keep them in place, his eyes never leaving Jon’s, his breath short, as he felt Jon’s sticky hand pull the brief up his tights. He guided himself to his entrance with one trembling hand, while he kissed one of Damian’s cotton clad legs all the way to the ankle, nosing the fabric, biting against the knobby bone a little. 

Green eyes closed in shyness, hiding against a cotton clad knee.

The other boy dragged his cock up and down against warm flesh, wanting in. He wanted it like never before, but...

”Hey” Jon called softly, caressing the hidden face, “look at me” he said, starting to push in.

“Ah-AH, JON, Jon!”

“Want me to stop?”

“N-no. Don’t you dare, don’t- ah please! Just...there. please...” he mouthed the word, so softly and brokenly no other human other than Jon could possibly hear them. 

It didn’t matter. Only Jon existed at that moment. When he finally bottomed out he draped himself over his body, his own so big that Damian felt so very small. 

“You beg so prettily”

His hands free as Jon’s weight was enough to pin his leg down, Damian carded his hands through his disheveled locks, locking his forehead against his. 

“Remind me to smack you for that tomorrow” 

“Mh-mh” Jon hummed.

They breathed the same hair for a minute, exchanging slow open mouth kisses, while they waited for Damian to get used to the intrusion. 

Then Damian bucked up, and Jon hissed. 

“move...move! Please…” suddenly frantic, both of them started to move in tandem, Jon slow at first but then getting lost between Damian’s tights.

“I...RAO, Damian...Dami, so good. You feel so good, so warm, you take me so well, so perfect” an unending stream of praises and adoration cascaded from his mouth endlessly, between kisses and pecks and hickeys and bites, the smallest part of Damian’s still able to form thought hidly lamented the fact his body was going to look like a battlefield the next day. 

Another problem for future Damian.

He was too busy meeting each of Jon’s trust, too busy screaming, too busy clawing at Jon’s back, crawling on top of him straddling Jon’s thighs, Jon effortlessly bobbing his whole body up and down, sucking on his nipples as Damian hugged his head holding for dear life, his own head thrown back in pleasure. 

It was on his hands and knees when he finally came, Jon following soon after, buried deep inside with one finally bone shattering trust that made Damian’s trembling arms give out, his face falling into the mess of covers and pillows under him. 

Jon had never come inside of him before. He had never let him. it was a pain to clean up, especially when in uniform. Future Damian was going to get so pissed about it. 

Present Damian didn’t give a fuck. It felt wonderful to feel the warm liquid slide down his spent tights.

He was fading out. So very tired. He fell on his side, then rolled on his front, accepting the big body falling over him and in his waiting arms, lazily playing with the mess of curls.

He cleared them away from the sleepy, smiling face of his boy, finding hazy blue eyes blinking up at him. 

“I love you” he told him, a whispered secret, just for him.

When Damian came back to his senses he was laying on Jon’s naked chest, their legs intertwined. Jon’s hand was warm against his back, tracing constellations known just to him. His sweater was nowhere to be found, and so were his briefs. He found that he didn’t particularly mind.

“Welcome back to the living” 

“Shut up”

“I love you too”

The silence that was surrounding them was palpable, but finally not awkward. It was peaceful, and homey. 

Then Jon’s stomach grumbled. 

“built an appetite, have we?” He teased. 

“As if it isn’t your fault”

“Not my fault you have a black hole for a stomach”

“Don’t be mean” Jon scolded, lightly pinching the side of his ass he had been caressing just seconds ago.

“Thankfully for you, your boyfriend is perfect” Damian said, crawling over Jon to fish something from under the bed. 

Jon’s eyes lit up. 

“OMG. YOU ARE PERFECT. THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. THE MOON TO MY SUN” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just eat, you overgrown baby”

He flopped back on the warm chest under him, as Jon happily tore opened his package of vegan gummy bears. 

“I’m not joking” he continued with his mouth full “you are. Perfect. The best boyfriend an half alien could ask for”

“Uh! Of course I am. And you haven’t even seen my bathroom yet”

“...what?”

“Never mind” Damian said mysteriously, stealing a green gummy bear from the package. 

“Anyway” he smiled, feeding half of the gummy bear to his adorable kryptonian “Happy Valentine, beloved”.

**Author's Note:**

> well. You did ask for getting caught/lingerie/ slow emotional sex...? I kind of delivered...kind of... I hope you liked it ^^''''...?


End file.
